


Dazed & Confused

by highqualitynot



Series: highqualitynot's Parkner Week 2019 [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Dancing, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Karaoke, Making Out, Multi, Singing, Underage Drinking, just a lot of kissing really, way too many synonyms for fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highqualitynot/pseuds/highqualitynot
Summary: Princess and Darling met in a dirty, overcrowded bar on karaoke night.Peter and Harley met at a Spider-Man themed Stark Industries party.There was more than a little bit of confusion.---parkner week 2019 day 8 -karaoke, body swap, fre sh a voca do





	Dazed & Confused

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've ever written that isn't rated T, and there's a simple explanation for that! i naturally write with swears, i just can't fuckin stop. also i've written a lot of kissing scenes lately, so overall none of my fics have ever been G. 
> 
> i've never written anything quite... risque enough to be M before. well, until now. 
> 
> also i got WAY carried away with this one. it's much longer than anything else i've written from parkner week. which. im super burned out and i've written 7/10 fics so i may just leave it at that. 
> 
> 7 days IS technically a week. 
> 
> bless [@parkner-stuff](https://parkner-stuff.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for chatting through some of the details of this fic with me. <3
> 
> the spotify playlist has some unecessary songs on it now, but you can check it out [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/3cinnamoncat3/playlist/1Ftf5aR07Ha3KcCtfjUe14?)
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

Betty Brant was an enabler. 

During their time in high school, her on-again, off-again relationship with Ned was encouraged by all her friends. Very quickly, Betty learned to use this same kind of encouragement to her advantage. 

She was absolutely, positively manipulative. 

If she wasn't a truly good person with strong morals, Peter would have thought her a terrifying villain. 

Nonetheless, Betty was a force to be reckoned with.

She had sourced some flawless fake IDs from a friend of a friend, and insisted that they all go out to a bar she knew about on the other side of town.

Betty had particular influence over Ned, as they had been going strong for at least a year and he never said no anyway. MJ rolled her eyes, but obviously said yes. Peter reluctantly agreed to skip patrol and go out with his friends. 

What he was unprepared for was the bar itself.

It was dark, lit only by yellowing incandescent bulbs and a permanently red traffic light that someone must have stolen from the street and placed decoratively in the corner. A smell of mildew and beer soaked the walls. The wood of the bar was peeling, the stools balanced only by wads of folded napkins.

And worst of all, it had a tiny little stage, a setup that looked like it was ancient, and a sign that said Karaoke Night! in big, hot pink letters.

“I love it,” MJ said, because of course she did. 

“I need a drink,” Peter said. 

He slid uncomfortably onto a stool, rocked back and forth on its unbalanced legs, and ordered the first thing he saw. 

The bartender gave him a Long Island Iced Tea and he turned around on his awful little stool. MJ was trying to flirt with some girl who looked intrigued by her antics. Betty was attempting to convince Ned to dance, but the only music was coming from the Karaoke Machine. 

Peter’s enhanced metabolism was going to need something a lot stronger than a Long Island Iced Tea. 

After getting a tab that he knew would hurt his wallet once he paid for the night, Peter was pleasantly buzzed. He could watch the room without feeling nauseous, and laughed at the sight of Ned spinning Betty to whatever song was on the Karaoke Machine. Hotline Bling, he thought.

“Fuck, why are girls so… girls?” MJ asked, sliding onto the stool next to him. She was clearly more drunk than him, though likely on fewer drinks.

“What happened?” Peter said.

“She wasn’ even into me,” MJ complained. “Wanted me for a threesome wit’ her boyfriend. I hate people like that.”

“I’m sorry, MJ. That sucks,” Peter put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“You’re not even slurrin’ your words, Pete. Bartender, more drinks!” MJ commanded. 

Peter rolled his eyes jokingly, but was more than pleased. “Sure, okay. Get me something strong.”

He could tell even his enhanced metabolism couldn't quite keep up, the drinks flooding his senses. Everything felt a little warmer; he was a bit dazed and slow to react.

By then, the bar was getting crowded with bodies. A surprising amount of people were there for the stupid Karaoke Night and the room just kept getting warmer. It probably would have been overwhelming if Peter wasn't tipsy.

MJ gestured frantically at a new girl: blonde, in a sundress and scarf. “Please be my wingman?”

Peter laughed and helped her out. The blonde eagerly flirted with MJ, introducing herself with a flip of short little ringlets. 

Peter turned away and felt the air get absolutely pulled from his lungs. 

There was a boy setting up on the Karaoke Machine. He was stumbling, running a hand through a messy blond ponytail. Peter’s eyes wandered over the collarbone he could see peeking out of a grey v-neck, admiring constellations of freckles. The boy had eyes like the ocean: big, blue, beautiful. 

“Hello, New York!” The boy slurred, clearly about as drunk as Peter felt.

He smiled, admiring the strip of skin exposed between the boy’s skinny black jeans and v-neck. He must have freckles _everywhere_, Peter thought. 

“I’m gonna sing a song for y’all tonight!” 

Whether it was his southern accent or just his drunkenness that led to the sultry ‘y’all’ dripping from the boy’s lips, Peter found himself strangely enamoured. He spun the microphone in his hands, nearly dropping it. Cute, Peter thought resoundingly. So cute. 

Cheers filled the room, a confirmation that Peter wasn't just seeing things. He had been tempted to grab the stranger next to him by the shoulders and shake them, ask them if they were seeing this beautiful boy, or if he was imagining it all. 

“Dazed & Confused by Ruel, for that pretty boy with the chocolate eyes!” The boy cheered. He blew a kiss at Peter.

Peter's brain instantly dissolved into a pile of vaguely aroused, intoxicated mush. The cute boy was singing for him. The cute boy had blown him a kiss. The cute boy thought he was _pretty_. 

He beamed like the idiot he was, watching the boy stumble over the lyrics of the song he had picked. 

_You came in swinging like Apollo_

_I’ll be feelin’ it tomorrow_

“I think he’s into you!” Betty shouted in his ear at one point. 

“Yeah, no shit, Heavens-To-Betsy,” MJ snarked, the blonde from earlier hanging off her every word. 

_No, I ain’t seein’ straight, hyperventilate _

_Knees begin to wobble_

The boy sent him a charming wink, and Peter couldn't resist the bubbly giggle he let out as a result. 

“He really _isn't_ seeing straight!” Peter snorted. 

_Either I’ve seen the light_

_Or I’m losing my mind_

The boy had a luxurious voice. Paired with his half-lidded eyes and the way he swivelled his hips to the beat, Peter wondered exactly how long he would be able to restrain from leaping up onto the stage and kissing him. Or more. 

_Leave me here in ruins_

_Something ‘bout your eyes_

_I can't even walk in a straight line_

_Under the influence_

The singer’s evident intoxication was made even more clear by the way he attempted to walk in a straight line befitting the lyrics of the song.

He stumbled, fell backwards onto a stool and took a pleased half-bow that had the crowd cheering for him.

_I don't know if this is real life, real life_

_What happens if I open my eyes, my eyes?_

“Are you okay? You look super drunk,” Ned told him, giving him what was probably intended to be an encouraging pat on the back. It slammed into Peter's shoulders and he doubled over for a moment. 

Groaning, Peter pulled himself back up to face Ned. “Prob’ly. But look at him, Ned! ‘M gonna… ugh. Look at him!”

_Yeah, I lost my head_

_And I’d do it again_

Peter paid off his tab, too drunk to even register the price. He stood up and wandered through the crowd, desperate to get a little closer to the singer.

For a moment, the boy looked sad and confused, eyes scouring the part of the room Peter had previously occupied. 

“Down ‘ere, princess,” Peter said, praying it sounded anywhere near charming. The pet name felt right on his tongue.

The singer shot him a beautiful smile and continued the song.

_There's something ‘bout you_

_That's got me dazed and confused_

The cheers around him should have been overwhelming, but they faded into background noise. The room’s previously encompassing heat became a pleasant warmth that settled in the pit of Peter’s stomach. All his focus was on his princess.

“Good song, princess,” he said, watching the boy hand off the microphone to another patron.

His princess nearly fell off the stage turning to face him. He blinked rapidly and then carefully slid down, coming to stand in front of Peter. 

“Princess?”

“Suits you,” Peter replied. A pretty pink flush coated the Princess’ cheeks, evidently not just from the alcohol.

“What's your name, darlin’?” Princess asked. His eyes were half anticipatory, and halfway to devouring him with their gaze. 

“Doesn’ matter,” he said. “Darling sounds pretty nice comin’ from you.” 

His princess chuckled, a dark gleam in his eyes. “Well, darlin’, would you do me the honour of a dance?” 

“Absolutely,” Peter said. His princess grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the throng of people. 

Whoever had gotten the microphone after his princess had changed the song to something wholly mediocre, a top 40 beat that sounded exactly like all the others. Peter couldn't bring himself to care, amazed by the boy in his arms. 

He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his princess’ skinny jeans. Princess hummed appreciatively and kissed his jaw. 

Peter's skin was on fire from his princess’ touch in much the same way his throat was from the drinks. A pleased gasp escaped him and he let one hand drift upwards to cup Princess’ cheek and pull him close. 

“Kiss me?” he asked, whined, nearly begged. 

His princess obliged, pressing their lips together in something surprisingly tender, given the circumstances. Peter melted into it, tugging excitedly at the belt loop still grasped in his left hand. 

Whatever Hollywood bullshit the romcoms were on may have been right. 

Kissing Princess was blazing. It was fire and sparks and burning through his whole body. It was every inch of him consumed in an inferno of _yes, yes, yes._

With that, he realized that his princess had a hand on the small of his back that was gradually dipping lower and lower. He reluctantly pulled out of the kiss, only to focus his attention on the collarbone Peter had been admiring the entire time. 

He pressed an appreciative kiss to the exposed skin, enjoying the shudder he got in response. Peter enthusiastically wore a bruise into the junction between Princess’ collarbone and neck, a motion that caused a small whimper to fall from the boy’s lips. 

Before he could stop himself, Peter was pulling back to gaze into Princess’ eyes. He blinked innocently as the hand hooked in the belt loops of those damn skinny jeans began to drift downward, teasingly circling the button on his pants. 

Princess inhaled sharply, eyes wide and dark. Peter’s innocent smile transformed into a satisfied smirk. 

“We should, uh… let's get outta here,” Princess managed. 

Despite how tight his pants were, Peter followed him outside into the warm evening air. He busied himself with littering his princess’ neck in kisses. 

“Don’t think… ah, I don't think either of us can drive,” he whined. Peter pulled back and nodded his agreement. 

“My place is way out there,” he said, pointing vaguely in the direction of his Queens apartment. He then buried his face in the crook of his princess’ neck and dedicated himself to kissing and nipping the skin there. “Too far. I want you now.”

Princess shivered. “O-Okay, I just, oh, goddamn that's really… stop, wait.”

Peter took a step back, brain still able to form coherent thoughts telling him not to be a douche. “Sorry.”

“No, it was real good,” Princess said. “I just need to like… get us a ride.”

“Mm, I’ll ride you,” Peter muttered, standing behind Princess and nuzzling into his neck.

“Oh, uh…yes, _please_,” his princess replied, leaning his head back and allowing Peter unfettered access. Peter's hips jolted involuntarily, seeking friction.

Peter pulled his hair free from the lazy ponytail it was wrapped in, amazed by the pretty blond curls his fingers tangled themselves in.

“I think my place is closer than yours,” his princess murmured. “I’ll hail a cab.” 

That ended in them making out in the back of the cab. Some distant part or Peter thought he probably ought to apologize to the driver, but he was a little too wrapped up in the curve of his princess’ mouth to care. 

The driver overcharged them and threw them out before a skyscraper that Peter's inhibited brain managed to recognize as Stark Tower. 

“Wait, what?” he slurred out, hand still gripping Princess’ v-neck as if prepared to yank it off at a moment’s notice. 

“I kinda… live here,” Princess explained, opening the door for them. 

Peter giggled. “No way. I work here.”

His princess pulled him into the elevator and told the AI to take them to the 72nd floor. 

Peter pinned him up against the wall of the elevator and kissed him, all teeth and tongue. Princess sighed into his mouth, hands scrambling up and down his back in an attempt to ground himself. 

He grasped Peter’s hips and squeezed. Peter released an embarrassingly loud moan and tugged gently on his princess’ hair. 

Princess pulled back, cheeks flushed, lips parted. He looked utterly debauched. “Do that again.”

“If you ask nicely.”

His princess begged so prettily. He couldn't say no.

Peter smirked into the kiss. He nipped at Princess’ bottom lip and pulled his hair. His princess whimpered and clawed at his hips, fingers slipping lower until he was admiring Peter's ass.

“Oh my God,” Princess breathed. “You're… wow.”

“Mm, keep doin’ that,” Peter said. He slid a leg between Princess’ and felt him grind against it, gasping with pleasure.

The elevator doors opened to the 72nd floor, one Peter had never been on. 

It had a kitchen and a living room area, plus a long hallway that his princess eagerly pulled him down. 

They stumbled through the hall, laughing and kissing. Princess managed to pull Peter's shirt off in the process: a Spider-Man graphic tee that he bought as a joke with Mr. Stark a while back. 

“What the fuck?” 

Peter jerked back in confusion. “Are you okay?” 

“You’re… holy shit,” Princess gasped out. His cheeks were bright red and his blue eyes huge, scouring Peter's chest ravenously. Hesitantly, as though he thought he would ruin them, he spread a hand over Peter’s abs. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Peter said, because nobody else had ever looked at him that way before. Like he was something worth coveting. “Which room’s yours?” 

Princess pointed to the next door over. Peter hummed and put his arms around his princess, pulling him up so his legs wrapped around Peter’s waist. 

Princess clawed at his back. “Shit, darlin’, please.”

Peter kept hold with one hand and pushed the door open with the other, carrying his princess across the room. He laid him on the bed gently, and went to close the door. 

Turning, he found a shirtless princess sitting on the bed, looking roughly as enchanted as Peter felt. The mattress dipped when Peter slid into his lap. 

“Mm,” his princess hummed, kissing him lazily. “That was the hottest thing… ever.” 

“Nah,” Peter pushed him so he was laying on his back and Peter could attack the little strip of skin just above those damn skinny jeans. The one he’d been thinking about biting ever since he saw his princess in the first place. “This is.” 

The slow drag of Princess’ skin on Peter’s left trails of sparks up and down his body. The heat made Peter's cheeks burn, his body shake when his princess grasped his hips desperately, just as hot as he was. 

Everything was ablaze. Every inch of Peter’s skin crawled with desire, flaming with need. It sizzled in him. He was burning from the inside out. 

\---

Harley woke up alone with what may have been the worst hangover of his life. 

He had barely managed to pull on his clothes from the day before when his stomach lurched painfully.

Harley launched himself out of his room to the bathroom and retched over the toilet. After throwing up what little was in his stomach, he stumbled to the kitchen to get himself some water.

And search for Darling. Where did his darling go?

He met this beautiful boy in a bar, had amazing (really, _really_ amazing) sex with him, and by the next morning, the boy had left. 

Harley didn't even know his real name. 

He took a miserable sip of his water. How could he find Darling? Harley leaned up against the counter, wracking his brain in an attempt to find any useful information besides how many hickeys he had left on his darling’s chest.

He walked back down the hallway, lost in thought until he saw a Spider-Man shirt on the floor. It must have been Darling’s! Harley could distinctly recall how he had looked shirtless. Pressed against the wall, cheeks flushed, lips parted… he was a vision.

Picking the shirt off the floor, Harley frowned. 

“You look awful,” Abbie shouted, pushing her door open and patting him on the back. 

“God, stop yelling,” Harley said. 

“I’m actually speaking in a normal tone of voice, Harls. You’re just super hungover,” Abbie told him. “Is that a new shirt?”

“No.”

“One night stand’s shirt?” Abbie asked.

“... don’t tell Tony.”

“He probably already knows,” Abbie said. “There's security cams for a reason.”

“Security cams!” Harley cheered. “That’s it! Thank you, Abbie!” 

He took off running down the hall, almost missing Abbie’s confused “You’re welcome?”

“Happy, Happy, I need your help,” Harley yelled, shoving the door open and sitting down in one of the chairs in the Head of Security’s office. 

“What is it, kid?” Happy gave him an unimpressed once over. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, I feel like shit,” Harley agreed. “I went out last night. I brought someone back. I need _you_ to find him on the security cams and help me figure out his name.”

“You want me to track down a one-night stand?” Happy raised a single scrutinizing eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

“What's in it for me?” Happy asked. 

“No chauffeur duty for a week,” Harley suggested. “No, two weeks!”

“I’d still have to chauffeur for the other kid,” Happy said. 

“What, Abbie? Morgan? I’ll deal with them both.”

“The _other_, other kid,” Happy said. 

“Tony’s personal intern?” Harley said. “Isn't that just a cover for Spider-Man?” 

“Spider-Man is a real person under the mask, y’know,” Happy explained. “A kid like you who your dad frequently forces me to drive around.”

“Please just do me a favour?” Harley pleaded. “You won't have to drive _me_ anywhere for a solid month.”

“Fine. But I’m telling Tony about your fake ID,” Happy said.

Harley opened his mouth to argue, but realized nothing he could say would stop Happy from telling his dad. 

“What time did you get back here?” Happy asked. 

“I was completely drunk,” Harley said. “I have no clue.” 

“I’ll see if FRIDAY logged your requests. You’re lucky, kid,” Happy said.

As Happy searched for Darling, Harley pondered what he would say to him. Something like, hey, we had mindblowing sex last night and I can’t stop thinking about you, wanna go on a date sometime? I swear I’m not a creep, I just have access to the security cams and knew you worked here, making it easy to find you and ask you out, for realsies this time. 

It was kind of creepy. Maybe Harley shouldn’t have searched for him. 

Happy cursed loudly, a look of pure confusion on his face. It melted into amusement, complemented by a hearty laugh.

“Wha… what is it? Did you find him?”

“Yeah, I found him,” Happy snorted. “He works here, you know.”

“He mentioned,” Harley said. “I figured that would make it easier to find him.”

“I can get you the name,” Happy said. “But it would be a favour for you. And honestly, I don't think you need to owe me right now. It’ll be much funnier to let this play out on its own.”

“Funnier?” Harley said. “What do you mean, funnier? Get back here!” 

Happy laughed and strode out of the room, leaving Harley alone in the chair. 

He leaned back, headache still sharply painful. Play out on its own? What was Happy talking about?

\---

“Wearing a suit feels weird,” Peter said, adjusting his collar again.

Tony sat up from where he had been leaning against the tinted windows of the limousine. “It’s a big event, Underoos. And a big day. You’re revealing your identity. You should at least dress well.”

“Well, yeah, I know that,” Peter said. “It just feels weird.”

Tony shot him a look. “Plus, you have to dress nice to impress my kids! Morgan will probably love you automatically, but there’s work involved in impressing Harley and Abbie.”

Peter’s blood ran cold with fear. He had already impressed Harley quite a bit a month before… which Tony could never know about if Peter wanted to live.

“Right, yeah,” he croaked out. 

The limo slid to a stop in front of Stark Tower, which was decorated lavishly for the event. Peter and Tony stepped out of the limo and were nearly mobbed by the press, who snapped photo after photo and demanded answers to every question.

“You okay, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, distantly. “Let's go inside.”

The environment in Stark Tower was different. For however many people there had been outside the tower, it seemed like there were twice as many within. Peter followed Tony into the elevator, trying not to think about how overwhelming everything was. 

“Floor 69, please, FRIDAY,” Tony said. 

“Did you pick that number on purpose?” Peter asked, before he could stop himself.

“It’s the event floor,” Tony said. “Of course I made it 69 on purpose.”

The elevator doors opened to one large room with a stage at the back. It was decorated in red and blue. Waiters with round trays wove through the crowd, presenting tiny, Spider-Man themed hor d'oeuvres. The stage had a hologram screen in the center, projecting a picture of Tony with Spider-Man beside him. 

“Mr. Stark, I don't know what to say,” Peter said, somewhere between touched and intimidated. 

“Just smile, kid. The presentation starts in a minute.” Tony straightened his tie and led him to the stage. 

Peter took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone. “Hi. My name is Peter Parker, and I am Spider-Man.”

The crowd _erupted_, a mix of chatter and cheers, both kind and debilitating. 

He continued on to explain how his web fluid worked and could be used to save lives. In addition, the formula would be completely free and easily accessible, while a produced version would be sold at an affordable price to hospitals and stores where it would be purchasable over the counter. 

When he finished his speech, Peter was bombarded by attention. Everyone was talking, trying to find out more about Peter Parker. He just wanted to reveal his identity and release his web fluid formula, not make anything about himself. 

Peter searched desperately for an out from the conversations he found himself in. Spotting Tony out of the corner of his eye, he blurted out some excuse and wove his way through the crowd to find him.

“I’ve decided I hate parties,” Peter said evenly, slipping into the circle of people Tony was speaking with. “And being famous. And caviar.”

“Three of the worst things about being a superhero,” Tony agreed. “Peter, these are my kids. There's Morgan, and Abbie, and Harley. Kids, this is Spider-Man. Don't embarrass me.”

“You do that well enough on your own,” Abbie said, rebellious fifteen year-old that she was. Peter immediately vowed to protect her forever. 

“Can you really stick to walls?” Morgan asked. She was only nine or ten years old, and her puppy dog eyes were a force to be reckoned with. 

“I can! Even to the ceiling,” he told her. “If your dad lets me, I’ll take you up there sometime.”

“Absolutely not, I am not letting you take my daughter on gravity-defying adventures,” Tony declared. 

Morgan gave him a look that indicated she expected him to take her on gravity-defying adventures. Peter winked at her, and she skipped off to steal hor d'oeuvres. 

He pointedly avoided eye contact with Harley until he absolutely had to, when Harley recognized him. 

“You’re… Darling,” Harley said, almost reverently. 

Peter didn't move, couldn't breathe, could only blink in terrified agony. “I… uh, I’m…”

“Can I get an explanation, please?” Tony said pointedly. 

“This is why Happy said it would be funnier if he didn't help me find you!” Harley shouted.

“You tried to find me?” Peter couldn't believe his ears.

“I didn't know your real name,” Harley said, embarrassed. “And I couldn't stop thinking about that night.”

“Hold on, you had a night together? You’ve met before?”

By then, their focus was entirely on each other and they both missed what Tony had to say. 

“I panicked when I saw your name on the door,” Peter confessed. 

“I figured,” Harley said. “I mean, you slept with your boss’s son. I should’ve guessed you’d be freaked out.”

“YOU SLEPT TOGETHER?” Tony screeched. The music slid to a halt and the whole room seemed to turn and look at him. 

“Uh, sorry,” Tony said, physically pained. “Inside joke. Ignore me!” 

The music resumed and the partygoers returned to their normal conversation. 

“In our defense, we didn't know we both knew you,” Harley started. “I didn't even know his name! I called him Darling the whole time.”

“Also we were super wasted,” Peter added, realizing a moment later that he probably wasn't helping. 

“Okay.” Tony massaged his temples, closing his eyes. “I’m a mature, emotionally stable adult, with kids who are inevitably growing up. I can handle this.”

He opened his eyes again and looked at the two of them. “YOU SLEPT TOGETHER?”

Abbie snorted, amused, and disappeared into the crowd, saying she was going to go stop Cassie and Lila from tearing each other apart. 

FRIDAY didn't bother to halt the music for the second exclamation, and it seemed like the partygoers must have accepted the inside joke explanation. 

“Peter,” Harley said. “Darlin’. Would you want to go on a real date with me?”

Peter's heart fluttered ecstatically, and he knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“Maybe for karaoke, or something,” Harley smirked slyly. “There's other ways I have yet to hear you sing.”

“I hate you. I hate everything about you, you stupid bratty child,” Tony said, and stormed off. 

Peter blinked. “I hope I don't get fired.”

“Oh, please,” Harley said. “He’s just freaked out. He likes you.”

“Sure, great, that’s encouraging,” Peter said. 

He looked away for a moment, then back into those beautiful blue eyes. “Princess, I would love to go on a date with you. Even if it’s for karaoke.”

Harley tangled his fingers with Peter’s and he could feel sparks igniting under his skin. Everything about Harley was incinerating; his eyes were blue fire, his skin wondrously warm. 

And Peter had no regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> before you ask... peter is either a power bottom or a top. im right and i should say it. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr [here](https://high-quality-not.tumblr.com/)
> 
> give compliments to [@parkner-stuff](https://parkner-stuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> spotify playlist for these fics [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/3cinnamoncat3/playlist/1Ftf5aR07Ha3KcCtfjUe14?)
> 
> thanks so much for reading my parkner week 2019 fics <3


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